


Trust

by girahimu_sama



Series: Post-Canon Thiefshipping Oneshots [11]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Citronshipping (post canon), M/M, Smut, Thiefshipping, and uhh light bondage, apparently passionate lovemaking is my kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girahimu_sama/pseuds/girahimu_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He expected Bakura to rush into it, the same way they always did, grasping at each other, taking as much as they could as fast as they could. Not having to think or feel, just experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is *SHRUGS* just had an idea and went with it. This is basically ALL smut, PWP - with slight plot I guess? - w/e. Malik's relation to submission/control was something I wanted to touch on; he bottoms here, rather fantastically I think. Way out of my comfort zone w/ this, it's probably the dirtiest I've written bye

“Do you trust me?”

 

_'If I didn't, I wouldn't be letting you do this.'_

 

That was what Malik wanted to say, but the words wouldn't seem to lodge from his throat, so he simply nodded. The air was comfortable and warm on his bare skin, the room glowing with a dim orange light, but it made no difference to him. His eyes were covered with a strip of black silk, preventing him from seeing. He could feel Bakura's weight atop him, and the less physical weight of his gaze watching him intently.

 

The total darkness blanketing his vision made dread swell within him, as it usually did when he closed his eyes to go to sleep, or when the sun began to sink beneath the horizon line. It rose in his throat like bile, but he fought to keep the sensation down, his breathing steady. The thief's presence helped immensely – secure, but not oppressive.

 

Hands pulled his wrists above his head, soft rope encircling them and binding them to the headboard. Bakura's fingers were skillful, securing the knots so that he had no chance of escape. The fact made his stomach flutter with a familiar stroke of fear, but alongside it there was a certain excitement. This _had_ been his idea after all.

 

“You don't have anything to prove.”

 

True, he didn't. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to ask this of Bakura so suddenly – curiosity, maybe. It wasn't often he relinquished control to anyone, least of all _here_. Bakura often joked about his manipulative tactics carrying over to the bedroom, though he knew the thief didn't mind it – _preferred_ it even. Only part of it may have been some desire to prove him wrong. After all, it wasn't like he _hadn't_ bottomed to Bakura before, but then again, he hadn't done it in _quite this way._

 

Complete surrender, the concept was intimidating for him. He'd had his fair share of people asserting their will over him and his body, the list including _himself._ Violation had carved deep and made a home inside his heart. It left no other option but domination; power was something that had to be taken; not having control was an almost unthinkable concept. It was terrifying – the uncertainty of a dark corridor with something lurking in the shadows.

 

But there was power in striding down that corridor anyway, finding the shadows empty and the phantoms having dissipated into thin air. Similarly, a thrill ran down his spine when he gave an experimental tug at his bindings, which held fast. It scared him. It excited him. There was challenge to be had, and he was never one to back down.

 

So what _was_ he trying to prove? Perhaps he just wanted to test the boundaries of what frightened him, see if it could dominate _him_ the same way it used to.

 

“What's the matter? You're the one that sounds unsure,” Malik said, a more characteristic rush of confidence rousing him to speak. A cocky smirk turned up the corners of his lips. “Afraid you'll hurt me?”

 

Bakura didn't return the teasing jeer. He exhaled heavily, and if Malik could see him he could imagine the typical stubborn pout on his face.

 

“I just don't want to be stuck with the mess.” His tone betrayed a far deeper concern.

 

Malik's smirk turned rueful. “A bit too late for that.”

 

Bakura sighed again, realizing Malik really was serious about this. Malik almost got the impression he was forcing Bakura into this, but he'd come to discover that the thief would do just about anything for him, even if he'd act like he hated doing it. Bakura only seemed reluctant for _Malik's_ sake.

 

“Just say something if you want me to untie you. None of that tough bullshit; _tell me_ if you hate what I'm doing.”

 

Malik nodded again and fell into silence. In the corner of the room, a stereo sat, filtering out a calm ambient tune on a very low volume, just so that the room wouldn't be completely quiet. He shifted a little as he waited for Bakura to get started.

 

He expected Bakura to rush into it, the same way they always did, grasping at each other, taking as much as they could as fast as they could. Not having to think or feel, just experience.

 

Instead, hands came up to cup either side of his neck, sliding around to the back and massaging the base. They were warm and soothing on the tension he hadn't realized had built up in his muscles. Bakura lingered there for about half a minute, fingers kneading into his trapezius and drawing a small groan out of him, before those hands moved back around. Malik tilted his head back without any prompting as they ran up his throat, traced his jaw, and then cupped his face.

 

Malik's brows furrowed against the blindfold, the gentle touch seeming far too unbelievable for the thief. Bakura's thumbs traced circles around Malik's cheekbones, leaving a tingle along his skin in their wake. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was confusing. He felt a steady puff of air against the lower half of his face, so he knew Bakura's mouth was close, and tried jutting his chin out to find his lips.

 

But Bakura didn't take the invitation, opting to delicately – _delicately,_ Malik still couldn't believe it – brush his lips against Malik's cheek instead. He switched over and did the same to the other side, and then he laid similar affections at the corners of his mouth. Malik turned his head, trying to turn them into real kisses, but Bakura had already moved upwards, brushing over his eyes and forehead. The former tomb keeper would have opened his mouth to teasingly ask if Ryou had snuck into their room and taken Bakura's place, but he was too entranced by the little gestures.

 

At first Malik thought he was teasing him, giving him a taste of how he usually made Bakura wait and eventually beg for it, but this seemed... far more sincere than that.

 

“Bakura...?” He asked, voice little more than a whisper.

 

“Shh,” Bakura hissed into his forehead, voice thick with annoyance he was clearly trying to restrain as not to disturb the fog of calm that had settled over the room. “ _Shut up_ for once and let me try something.”

 

Malik gave a soft snort, but his mouth parted in wonder when the pad of Bakura's thumb traced over his bottom lip, back and forth. Something in his chest began to stir, making his breathing come a little faster than usual. Bakura was going slow, tantalizingly slow, but it didn't seem to be for the purpose of riling Malik up. In fact it seemed to be the opposite.

 

Malik flicked his tongue out and closed his lips over the tip of Bakura's thumb, an offering. This time he heard Bakura's breath catch slightly, and then felt two fingers press against his lips. He opened his mouth so he could suck on them, feeling himself sinking into a deeper state of relaxation. It wasn't long before Bakura replaced his fingers with his mouth.

 

Bakura's went back to cupping his face, pressing his lips to Malik's again and again, each press growing firmer than the last. When Malik sighed into the kiss, Bakura tilted his head for a better angle, nibbling at his bottom lip before deepening the gesture. Both of them moaned as their tongues glided together, lapping at each other's mouths like the tide pulling in and out. The kiss was different from their usual experience; they savoured it like fine wine, moving slow enough to appreciate the taste.

 

Bakura's hands began to wander – everywhere, not just places Malik expected him to go for. Fingers drifted along his clavicle, running along the bend of his shoulders, drawing nonsensical patterns along the skin of his inner arms and elbows. Malik shivered when his hands moved back down, palms smoothing over his chest and caressing his muscles. It was like Bakura was the one currently without vision, needing to map out every contour of Malik's body.

 

Part of Malik wondered what made Bakura decide to take his time, and another part was considering asking him to do it more often because he was enjoying it more than he would have thought. Bakura's lips trailed down his neck, following the lead of his hands. Malik tilted his head back to allow the other more room to work with, breath hitching with every mark the thief sucked into his skin. Bakura usually favoured bites, even to the point of real pain which Malik was not always fond of, but this time his lips were only gentle and soothing. It was as though he were trying to convey something that he couldn't find the words for.

 

When Bakura's mouth swept over his nipple he gasped, arching his chest upwards. Teeth scraping it lightly, the thief rolled his tongue around it until it was hard in his mouth. He gave the other the same treatment as his nails gently scraped at Malik's stomach, running up his sides and down his thighs. There seemed to be no area he wouldn't venture.

 

His mouth reached Malik's navel, teasing the spot just above his waistline, and by then Malik was fighting not to squirm. It seemed like warmth was spreading from each area the other touched, a comfortable heat bleeding through his limbs, to the very ends of his fingertips and toes. He fully anticipated Bakura to make the last jump and finally take him into his mouth, but the thief simply passed over him. Malik exhaled heavily, but he strangely wasn't all that impatient, too enraptured to complain.

 

Bakura hadn't even begun anything overwhelmingly sexual yet and Malik already felt like he could melt back into the bed. The minutes ticked by, Bakura apparently content with letting the heat built between them. Everything the other was doing seemed amplified by the temporary absence of sight, his other senses forced to compensate. Malik's mouth hung open, breathing quick and light.

 

He felt Bakura spreading his legs apart and situating himself between them, hands smoothing down the V of his hips, between his thighs to the back of his legs, and then back up. Malik gave a subtle rock of his pelvis, his erection feeling terribly ignored, but pride made him bite his lip and stifle a whine. There was a pause, the thief's hands stilling.

 

Only then did Malik realize how exposed he'd allowed himself to become. He couldn't tell what Bakura was doing but the feel of eyes roving his form was unmistakable, and it made him shudder. Never in his life would he have thought himself willing to lay so open before another, especially tied up as he was.

 

A mutter drifted from Bakura's lips, barely intelligible. Malik cocked his head, a questioning hum rising in his throat.

 

The thief snorted out a small laugh. Instead of answering him, however, he lowered his mouth to ravish kisses along Malik's inner thighs, to his knees, even along his calves, and the former tomb keeper forgot all about it. Bakura's fingertips trailed behind his knees; it tickled and he tugged at his bonds, heels dragging slightly against the bedspread. _Now_ he was growing impatient, chest rising and falling as he panted.

 

Even as he indulged in all the touches, Malik couldn't shake the thoughts fingering at the back of his mind. It had started out as a barely noticeable itch, but was gradually building into a slow realization.

 

He was not meant for this kind of worship. His entire lineage had been devoted to grooming him for one purpose; to be a vessel for the Pharaoh's memories, a living stone tablet to hold the sacred carvings passed down through the generations. Over the years he would rebel against his purpose, try and bury it under the glamour of his appearance, but it didn't matter how much one dressed up the shattered pieces of themself. He would always be broken. He would always have the scars to remind him what he had been crafted for.

 

But Bakura... the way Bakura was treating him now was something else. The scars were the last thing on his mind at the moment, the satin sheets at his back soothing their near constant burn. He didn't feel like a collection of shattered pieces, he felt like a person the thief was viewing, appreciating, as a whole. The other male hadn't even touched his backside, paying attention to everything else instead. It made him feel... like he was more somehow.

 

Malik began to tremble.

 

“Bakura,” he breathed, his heart fluttering with something that made him feel unbearably dizzy.

 

The thief, taking notice of his shaking, ceased what he was doing and moved back up. When he spoke, he was much closer, an edge of concern in his tone. “I... Did you want me to stop?”

 

Malik huffed out an incredulous, but unsteady, laugh. “Fuck no, I want _you._ ”

 

“Oh,” was all Bakura said, sounding just as breathless as Malik felt. “Right.”

 

He withdrew, but only for less than a minute, and then Malik felt lubricated fingers push up against his entrance. He tensed up a little out of reflex, headboard creaking as he tugged at his bonds, but he was already so undone by Bakura's lavishing that a few kisses on his chest were all it took for him to relax again. Bakura massaged at the sensitive flesh before one of his digits slipped inside.

 

Malik sucked in a breath, tugging at his restraints again. It was odd not being able to do anything. Usually at this point they'd be helping each other out, either snarling quips back and forth at each other if words weren't already beyond them. He sensed Bakura's gaze on him again.

 

“You want out?”

 

“More like I want you to hurry up.” Malik tried to make it sound cocksure and brazen, but arousal mixed with an undefinable feeling dragged his words down. Bakura snorted, pushing another finger into him by way of response and effectively ending that conversation.

 

Malik's jaw dropped when he felt a velvety wetness slick up the length of his cock. Bakura licked him a few times, not breaking the pace he'd been following for the past half hour, even when Malik's hips hiked upwards in a subtle plea. He must have been losing patience, however; Malik could hear how heavy his breathing was, the both of them well out of their comfort zone as far as going slow went.

 

Bakura's tongue flicked over the slit of his cock before his lips closed over him at last, fingers pumping and crooking inside of him. Malik shifted his legs, beginning to roll his hips in both an effort to get Bakura to take him deeper and to work the fingers further inside. He gasped out, unabashed, as electric jolts coursed up his spine, the warmth that had eclipsed his entire body moving down into a pressure at his lower abdomen.

 

Bakura massaged at his prostate for a few glorious moments, but soon enough he was pulling away again, causing Malik to swallow a needy cry.

 

Yet again, it didn't take long for him to return, and then Malik felt something cool and smooth press against his asshole. The plug slid inside him with ease, and he groaned at the sensation of being filled. Instead of immediately going back to sucking his dick, Bakura dropped his head to lick at his balls, swirling his tongue against the tender sacks. Malik's hands fisted and he tossed his head back, chest heaving.

 

“Fuck... holy fuck...”

 

Bakura took him into his mouth again, pulling back only to sink down further on the next dip of his head. With his hands, he stroked what he couldn't reach until he was swallowing him almost completely. Malik writhed, wanting to thrust upwards but hands held down his hips, a wail building in his throat. It was good, so good, but at the same time it was so fast. Fast was usually desirable, but this time it didn't match the pace that had been set before, and Malik didn't want this to end so early.

 

“Not gonna... last... like this,” he strained, finding it hard to think through the haze clouding his mind. Everything was burning, the air in the room thick and heavy, but Bakura's touch seemed to burn the most, consuming everything else. “I want you inside me... when I come...”

 

The wet heat clenched around him disappeared as Bakura pulled off of him with a gasp, breathing laboured. “I think that... can be arranged.”

 

Malik hissed at the loss of contact, seizing up with a rush of nerves as he came close to the edge but managed to hold himself back. He shifted against his bonds once again – after being in the same position for a while, he found himself beginning to grow restless. Bakura, thankfully, got the message.

 

“I'm untying you. You look ridiculous.” Bakura scoffed, though the lust in his tone suggested otherwise. He crawled up and undid the rope after a bit of fumbling.

 

Malik dropped his arms to his sides, feeling boneless, even more so as he felt the plug being taken out of him. He allowed Bakura to pull him up so that he was straddling the other male's lap, arms looped around his shoulders. Bakura's hands guided his hips into position, and Malik gave a soft moan as he felt the thief's cock press up against his ass.

 

Bakura reached up to slide the blindfold off – Malik had almost forgotten it was even there in the first place, too focused on other sensations. He blinked, and then Bakura's face came into focus, like he was seeing for the first time.

 

For some reason, a giddy laugh burst forth. Bakura scowled at him and looked like he was about to start an argument. Malik just shook his head and cupped Bakura's face like the thief had done to him before, pressing their lips together and licking his way into Bakura's mouth.

 

The laugh was still in his chest when they broke apart, resting their forehead's against each other, breath washing over each other's faces, but it came out as more of an overwhelmed sob this time. A new warmth bloomed between them, spreading from their centers and encompassing the two of them. Bakura entered him, arms pressing him close as he buried his face in the former tomb keeper's neck.

 

They moved together, easing into a steady rhythm. Malik cupped the back of his head, mouth open and sighing into his ear.

 

No one could make him forget the darkness like Bakura could.

 

“I love you,” Malik whispered, trying to bring them impossibly closer, cock rubbing against Bakura's stomach with every movement. He rolled his hips, breath hitching on each exhale, so engrossed in what he was doing he almost missed the words the other man murmured against his collarbone.

 

“I love you too.”

 

Malik faltered, fingers catching in Bakura's white hair. It felt as though he'd found a different sort of release, his chest feeling as though something had unwound within it and left his heart feeling lighter. He cried out when Bakura's fingers traced up his spine, the touch electric and awakening something inside him. He could barely handle it anymore, pushing Bakura onto his back so they could deepen the angle and pick up the pace.

 

The thief's hands dropped to his ass, pushing downwards and encouraging Malik as he impaled himself on his erection over and over again. Skin against skin, mouths moulding together, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, but as far as they were concerned it had never mattered in the first place.

 

Malik's fingers laced with his partner's, guiding them along his body, wanting them everywhere at once. He was greedy and he took it all, a broken noise escaping him when he felt Bakura grab him and stroke. The fire that had been building seemed to be reaching its peak, his movements already stuttering, hips bucking almost desperately and a string of words that mostly consisted of Bakura's name rolling off of his tongue amidst the crescendo.

 

The orgasm was blinding, physical and emotional completion spiraling him to new heights. He arched, jaw dropped in a soundless cry, toes curling as it started low in his body and spread through him like a wave. His release spilled over Bakura's hand and stomach, the tension in his body ebbing with it. Crashing down on top of the other male's chest, Malik's reeled in absolute bliss. Bakura slipped out of him, arms cradling his compliant body as he pressed kisses into his neck.

 

Bakura reversed their positions, putting Malik on his back and lifting one of his legs up against his body. He penetrated him again, tipping his head back and biting his lip as the tight heat encircled his cock. He lasted little more than a minute longer, thrusting once, twice more and then breaking into a throaty moan as he came. Pulling out once again, he heaved an immense sigh and laid down to join Malik in post-orgasmic relaxation.

 

With some effort, Malik rolled over to drape himself over his chest, the only sounds in the room the hum of the stereo and their breathing as it gradually evened out. A thrill still ran over his skin and through his nerves like a current, feeling oversensitive and spent. Soft music still played in the background, and he knew they'd have to get up to wash, but at the moment he didn't want to move and disturb the atmosphere.

 

He dragged his gaze upwards, reaching up to trace his fingers along the thief's facial scar. Bakura had his head tilted back, and Malik could just catch the edges of a dazed grin lingering on the corners of his lips.

 

“Bakura?”

 

“Mm?”

 

Malik found himself smiling too. He liked this. Quiet moments between them, not filled up by too much talking or bickering. They were rare but he could appreciate them. “That was good.”

 

“Mm.” Bakura grunted, sounding less dazed now and more like he'd come back to himself.

 

“Should do it again sometime.” Malik shifted closer, pressing his lips to the shell of thief's ear. Bakura turned his head so their lips could meet again while his fingers idly played with his hair.

 

“Maybe if you're less of a prick than usual.”

 

Malik smirked, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and tugging, causing Bakura to groan. He pulled away to sit up and lean over the other male, suddenly not feeling so tired anymore. His head gave a pointed jerk towards the waiting bathroom, eyes devious and heavy with promise.

 

“So, how's your recovery time?”

 


End file.
